


Consequences of Discovery

by Queen of the Castle (queen_of_the_castle_77)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_the_castle_77/pseuds/Queen%20of%20the%20Castle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd grown accustomed to spending time in the nurse's company. He had begun, in fact, to enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consequences of Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lusty Month of May Marathon 2007. Remus is 16 years old.

As often as his condition allowed it, Remus Lupin tried to spend the morning after the full moon locked away in his own dormitory. Or the Room of Requirement. Or anywhere other than the Hospital Wing, really.

It wasn't that he didn't want a potion to dampen the pain. And he certainly could have used Madam Pomfrey's sympathetic ear; it wasn't often that he could talk openly about his situation, and in those first years before James, Sirius and Peter confronted him about it, it had only been Pomfrey and Dumbledore that knew of his true ailment. He'd grown accustomed to spending time in the nurse's company. He had begun, in fact, to enjoy it.

Perhaps a little too much, as it turned out.

Now he lived in fear of having to go to the infirmary in case Madam Pomfrey decided he needed to spend the day there. He didn't think that he could remain in her company that long without his… _problem_ showing itself.

Remus had always been a little different from the other boys his age, but he was fairly certain that getting an erection every time a woman many times his age bent across him to retrieve a potions phial or walked away from him with a slow and unintentional sashay of her hips went above and beyond any conception of normality. He had enough on his plate without being labelled a pervert, even if it was only just in his own mind.

And if she were to see…

Well, Remus could imagine what she would do if she noticed his discomfort.

She might recoil from him with a look of shocked horror in her eyes. He could imagine her calling Dumbledore on the Floo and telling him just what sort of perversity his pet werewolf was getting up to after all that the Headmaster had done to help him. They'd regret allowing him a place at Hogwarts, then. Dumbledore might even decide to report him for nearly killing Snape, inadvertently or not, after all, just to have a valid excuse to get rid of him.

Remus somehow doubted that would be the case, since Madam Pomfrey was ever the professional, and Dumbledore was often inconceivably understanding. The fear was still there, though. No one had ever claimed that fear always had to be rational.

Pomfrey might, more likely, attempt to ignore Remus's problem and give him that too-tight smile of hers that said that she wasn't pleased, but that she was too polite to actually say anything. Perhaps she would even, if she saw his shame about it, inform him as clinically as possible that it was a normal reaction to being touched, even if the touching was purely non-sexual.

Remus thought that that would be somehow worse. At least if she threw him out by his ear, it would show him that she cared one way or another. He wanted to think that after all the time they'd spent together she considered him something more than just another student that she had to deal with as a result of her job. He wanted to be somehow important to her.

Of course, she might also catch sight of his tented robes – or perhaps his boxers, if he'd had to strip to show her the damage he'd done to himself while the full moon was out – and allow herself an almost secretive smile.

She could trace one of his scars, or perhaps gently apply a topical potion to a new wound, and inform him coolly that, "You were always my favourite patient, Mr Lupin." She could, of course, be secretly pleased when his cock twitched rebelliously at that admission.

She could then follow the newest scar a little further up his thigh than perhaps would be reasonable and her arm would brush along the side of his prick. Remus's hips could thrust up, hoping for more contact, but she could have withdrawn her hand by then. A teasing look could adorn her face, and the crow's feet around her eyes could gather into a smile.

"I think I've touched you enough for one day, Mr Lupin. Perhaps you'd like to reciprocate?"

And Remus would be only too happy to reach out a shaking hand and cup her breast, so much larger than most of the female students could boast.

He wished he could lean in and inhale the scent of her there. He always cut the fantasy off before the imagined version of himself could do so, though. Any further and Remus knew that he'd only have to get a glimpse of her and he'd become hard. At least as it stood he could concentrate on other things – particularly, on not watching her – long enough to get in and out of the Hospital Wing without any mishaps or penis rebellions.

Remus knew that she would never want him like that. She was an adult – a desirable woman who could probably have her pick of men if she ventured out into the world outside Hogwarts with such a purpose – while he was just a skinny, scarred sixteen-year-old boy.

And even if she did for some reason want him, she would never act on it. But he thought the mere idea that she might, however unlikely, was more terrifying than the other two options combined. Because as long as his strange little crush went obviously unrequited he could pretend that he was as normal as a teenage werewolf could be. He could hide his craving for a more mature woman behind a mask, talking instead with the other guys about that Ravenclaw seventh year that just might be the hottest witch in Britain (though Remus didn't really think so at all). He could look Sirius, James and Peter in the eyes without fear that their gazes would dart away uncomfortably, or that they would morph into disgusted glares.

So Remus avoided Madam Pomfrey at all costs, even if it sometimes meant unnecessarily suffering through his pain the morning after his transformation. In just over a year he'd have graduated and would likely never have to see her again. He could find a girl his own age who he wouldn’t be ashamed to lean over and kiss on the cheek in public.

He could stick it out until then.

And if he dreamed of firm and slightly-cold hands brushing over his skin in a decidedly unethical way, no one needed to know about it.

Particularly not her.

~FIN~


End file.
